


Serendipity

by vintagevalentinexx



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-10-07 10:36:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10358511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vintagevalentinexx/pseuds/vintagevalentinexx
Summary: Serendipity: A Frank Castle/Reader Series.Who knew that the love of your life was only a fire escape away?





	1. Window

**Author's Note:**

> So I was completely taken by Daredevil Season 2 and have fallen into the Frank Castle trash can. He is just such a wonderful character and I felt so very compelled to write about him. 
> 
> If you haven’t seen Daredevil Season 2, I strongly advise doing so before you read this!
> 
> I hope you like it! :)
> 
> P.S. This will be a multi-part story!

Your days weren’t always this bad.  There was always an underlying throbbing in the back of your mind, but your days were not usually this dark.  There were days that were absolutely wonderful; days where your world was filled with color and fragrance.  You cherished these days, because they were so pure.  Then there were days like the one you were having; dirty-colored sepia and rain.  You stepped out onto the fire escape, a place where you found some solace on dark days like the one you were having.  You took a deep breath in, taking in the scent of rain as you sat on the damp grate of the fire escape, not caring about your bottom getting wet.  Your legs hung over the edge as you continued to breathe deeply, taking in the sounds of the city.  You knew that being out there alone wasn’t the best idea, given all of the insanity that has plagued Hell’s Kitchen over the past year, but you didn’t care.  The peace that the fire escape gave you was worth the risk.  Gripping the rails, you leaned your head against them, calming your breath, trying to pull yourself out of the darkness that you were so often plunged into.  You were jolted out of your quasi –meditation by a loud thud coming from the apartment next to yours.  

You had never met your neighbor.  The only thing you knew was that you shared a fire escape with them.  You didn’t even know what they looked like.  Sometimes through the wall you could hear a dog barking, but that was really about it.  You heard another thud from inside of the apartment and you crept closer to your neighbor’s side of the fire escape, your heart beating heavily, hoping you weren’t about to see something you couldn’t unsee.  You peered into the window, letting out a scream as the blinds were pulled aside, your eyes meeting an intense pair of brown ones.  You stumble back towards your side of the fire escape, gripping the rail tightly, afraid that you were going to fall off, just from sheer nervousness.  You could hear the window opening, your body paralyzed in fright and embarrassment, your eyes as big as saucers.  You started to babble.

“Please, I am so so sorry.  I wasn’t trying to spy on you.  I heard a noise.  I’m your neighbor.  We share the fire escape.  I was just sitting out here.  Did I mention that I’m sorry?  Well I’m so sorry, please—“

“Shut up.”

You swallowed hard, cautiously and slowly looking up, meeting the eyes of your neighbor.  He stood tall, muscular, and he gave off a certain air of authority and confidence that unnerved you.  He seemed to size you up, his shoulders relaxing when he realized that you were not a threat.  He held his hands up, showing you that he wasn’t any harm as he stepped closer.  You shook with fright, your mind clicking, realizing why this man was so terrifying.  He was the man that all of Hell’s Kitchen lost sleep over.  He was the man that you watched on the news every night for months; the man that they said was a serial killer, killing people just because he could.  

**The Punisher.**

You were too afraid to move, so scared that he was going to do something to you.  You could feel your knees starting to buckle, your hands losing grip of the rail.  You felt yourself slipping, eyes closed shut, feeling as though you slammed into a wall. A warm wall.   _Wait, what?_  To your horror you open your eyes, finding yourself held in the arms of The Punisher himself.  He looked down at you, and then at your window, his lips forming the smallest of smiles, nary even a ghost of a smile, just enough for you to realize the corners of his eyes were crinkled in amusement.

“Ma’am…”

“PLEASE DON’T HURT ME. I’M SO SORRY—“

“…uh…Ma’am…”

“I PROMISE I WON’T SAY ANYTHING TO ANYONE PLEASE JUST LET ME GO, PLEASE DON’T KILL ME—“

“…You locked yourself out of your apartment, Ma’am…”

You stare up at him in partial shock, whipping your head to look at your window, latched and locked. You stand upright, finding your footing as you nervously straighten out your clothes, becoming extremely focused at the grate of the fire escape.  You could feel the flush rising in your cheeks as you regained your composure.  You could hear him chuckling softly at you. His voice was throaty, not overly gravely, but had a definite rasp to it.  He had the tell-tale accent of a life-long New Yorker.

“I…uh…so…you aren’t here to kill me…?”

He rolled his eyes, reaching past you, feeling the pane of your window, trying to force it open. He grunted, exhaling.

“Wanna come through my side?  I don’t wanna break your window…”

You gape at him.   _Is this a trick?  Is he trying to lull me into a sense of false security to kill me?  What the hell is his game?_  He watched you, looking at you as if he could read your thoughts.

“Seriously sweetheart? I ain’t tryin’ to kill ya.”

He grabbed your hand as he made his way through his window, nearly dragging you through with him. He pulls you through his apartment, your head snapping around wildly as you notice all of the guns and other various weapons.  You notice opened cans of food amongst the rest of the mess, nearly rolling your eyes. _Typical man._  You perked up at the sound of a dog barking.

“Is that…is that a dog?”

He looked back at you, the same ghost of a smile on his lips “Yes, Ma’am.  His name’s Max.”

He pulls you through the rest of his apartment, grabbing something that you couldn’t see off of a table as he pulls you out into the hallway to your door.  You look up at him, chewing on your bottom lip.  “I lock my door as soon as I got into my apartment…”

He nods, “Smart woman.” He takes what like a set of different shaped picks, getting your door open in seconds flat.

“I…um…thank you, Mr.—“

“Frank.  Name’s Frank.”

“I’m (Y/N).”

“Nice meetin’ ya sweetheart.  Do me a favor.  Next time, try to not get locked out on the fire escape, huh?  You’re lucky I was home.  You could’a been out there all night.”

You find yourself smiling a little as you slipped past him to go inside your apartment.

“Oh, and kid…I’d appreciate it if you—“

You nodded.  “I won’t tell anyone.  As absolutely horrifying as you are, you’ve really cleaned up Hell’s Kitchen and—“

You could hear him laughing.

“That was really insensitive of me.”

“S’alright.  You have a nice night, (Y/N).”

“Goodnight, Frank.”

You close your door, locking it.  It is only then that you hear him walk back to his own apartment, the familiar sound of his door slamming and the dog…er, Max, barking again.  You lean back against your door, a smile finding its way to your lips.  Were you so frightened that you were just smiling out of nervous?  You had no idea.  You didn’t know how to feel about the man who took out the gangs single-handedly and yet helped you get back into your apartment.

Though you hoped that you would have more encounters with him.


	2. Leftovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Hey is the next part to my Frank Castle/Reader story! I hope you enjoy!!

Life went on as it usually did.  Your dark days were soon replaced with brighter ones.  It was kind of comforting, in a way, to know who lived next door to you.  Sure, you knew he was a killer, a man who could kill without batting his eyes, but he wasn’t out to kill you.  As you read the papers and watched the news, you soon came to the realization that he wasn’t on some random killing spree.  He was taking the bad guys down, systematically.  He was cleaning house in Hell’s Kitchen.  You still weren’t sure how you felt morally about the entire situation, but you just couldn’t shake your mysterious neighbor from your thoughts. You only saw him once or twice after the fire escape incident, smiling and waving shyly at him in the hall as he nodded in your direction.  You smiled as you heard his rambunctious dog barking, and Frank yelling at him to be quiet. You giggled to yourself as you chopped up some vegetables.

* * *

It was that time of the week—grocery shopping.  You navigated the aisles with ease, knowing exactly where you wanted to go.  You bypassed the little blue-haired old ladies as they lingered in the narrow aisles, maneuvering your shopping cart, throwing all the items into your cart that you would need for the week.  You were about to pass the pet food aisle when you stopped short.  A small smile found its way to your lips as you browsed their selection, throwing some dog treats into your cart.  You doubled back through some of the other aisles adding some extras to your cart before you left the grocery store.

After you put your groceries away, you went to work.  As you chopped onions, you found your thoughts going back to Frank.  You remembered the way he looked that night, how tall he seemed in the sepia colored dusk.  The more you looked back and thought about it, the less menacing he seemed to be, at least that night.  You replayed the night in your head over and over again, how strong he was as he pulled you through his window.  Despite his strength, his grip on you was never painful.  He was precise, and you were sure that that carried over in his…nighttime activities.  You dumped onions and garlic into a pan, sautéing them.

As you threw pasta into some boiling water you remembered what his apartment looked like.  You nearly shivered remembering all of the artillery you saw, not even trying to think of how he acquired all of those weapons.  You remembered his dog, Max, barking enthusiastically, probably excited to see a new face.  You glanced over to the box of dog treats you had on your counter.  You didn’t have any pets of your own, but you figured that his dog might enjoy them when you saw them at the grocery store.

After draining the pasta you finished your sauce, humming happily as it exceeded your expectations. You portioned out your lunches for the following week, putting them in little separate containers in your refrigerator.  Seeing as you had a ton of extra pasta and sauce you set it in a different container, making quick work of some leftover ground beef in your fridge, making a meat sauce.  You nearly threw your pan across the room when you heard a loud bang from next door, followed by yelling.  It seemed muffled but you assumed he was just yelling at his dog.  You chuckled, your lips turning upward in a smile as you packed up the pasta and meat sauce.  You grabbed the dog treats, placing the container of food, treats, and a note by his door.  Taking a deep breath, prepping yourself, you knocked vigorously, and then bolted for your door.  Shutting your door shut behind you, your heart nearly punching its way out of your chest, you thought back on what you wrote.

_Frank,_

_I know it’s none of my business, but when you brought me through your place I noticed you like to eat a lot of food out of cans. It’s not much, but I thought you might like something a little different!_

_Your neighbor,_

_(Y/N)_

_P.S.  The treats are for Max! :)_

You heard his door open and close, smiling to yourself as you set about doing the dishes, opting for an early night.  Once you had the pots and pans soaking in the sink, you set about pouring yourself a glass of wine, and winding down for the night with catching up on your Netflix queue. You begin to doze off when you hear a knocking at your door.  Hesitantly, you approached the door, peering out of the peephole to see that no one was there.  You rip open the door, looking around, and seeing no one.  Looking down, you notice your container, empty now, with a note on top of the lid.

_(Y/N),_

_It’s nice to have something to eat that doesn’t have the aftertaste of aluminum.  You’re a great cook.  Thanks._

_–Frank_

_P.S. Max is a slob and nearly tore through half the box of treats._

You chuckled to yourself as you held onto the note, putting the container in the sink to clean it in the morning.

* * *

You continued to send over containers of leftovers and baked goods, always making sure to leave a little something for Max as well.  It became a routine for you, always enjoying the little notes Frank would send back with the empty containers.

_(Y/N),_

_The roast was amazing.  You’re making Max fat._

_–Frank  
_

* * *

_(Y/N),_

_I hope you’re not going out of your way for me._

_–Frank  
_

* * *

_(Y/N),_

_I’m starting to think that you’re spoiling me. Cookies?  You’re too much._

_–Frank_

You saved all the notes he’d sent you, though you didn’t know why.  Hell, you still had no idea why you were so interested in sending him food. At the end of the day he murdered so many people.  Granted, the people he murdered were criminals, but did that make him a criminal too?  Where was that line?  Just how far was he allowed to go?  These were the things you tried to not think about.  The way he smiled at you was enough to make sure you continued sending him over meals.  You wondered if he was ever lonely.  His nighttime activities must not have afforded him a lot of friends, or relationships for that matter, not that you were thinking of that of course.

You were about to grab your keys to head out to run some errands when you noticed a note slipped under your door.

_(Y/N),_

_Would be nice to have some company once in a while._

_–Frank_

You clutched the note to your chest, a warm smile blossoming on your lips.  What was happening?  Did you like him?  You didn’t even know him, yet you were growing fond of sending him dinners.  And here you were, contemplating having a meal with him, Frank, the man who has killed more people that you can even imagine. You knew there would be a point where you wouldn’t be able to turn back.  You just didn’t know when that was going to happen.

You scribbled out a note, sliding it under his door.

_Frank,_

_Steak or chicken?_

_–(Y/N)_


	3. Takeout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Here is the 3rd installing of my Frank Castle/Reader series! Enjoy!

It’s funny how things seemed so normal and natural now between you and the man that everyone in New York City seemed to either be terrified of or applauded.  You readjusted your bag on your arm, steaks and other accoutrements lay inside.  You walked with purpose, excited to get the food on the stove, knowing that you’d actually be sharing a meal with Frank.   _Was this a date?  Yeah right.  As if he wanted anything like that from you…but did you want it?  Why would you care in the first place?  Do I want it to be a date?  Great.  Do I want to go on a date with a man who’s killed countless people?  On the other hand he’s made it so criminals can never harm anyone ever again.  Why? Why do I do this to myself?_

You stopped paying attention to your surroundings as you again adjusted the bag on your shoulder. You smiled as you saw your apartment building, getting ready to pull your keys from your pocket to open the lobby door.  What you didn’t expect was to be shoved into the alleyway adjacent to your building.

The bags you were carrying fell and spilled on the ground as your back slammed against the wall.  You looked up, your eyes wild and scared as you looked at the man who was now pointing a gun at your chest.  You threw your purse to the ground; no amount of calling to cancel your credit cards and getting a new driver’s license could equal the value of your life.  You trembled with fright, the mugger’s gun unwavering.  He smiled down at you menacingly, his forearm pressed up against your windpipe.

“Well, well, well. Look what we have here.  Aren’t you a little cutie, little mouse.  Want me to tell you what I like to do to little mice like you?”

You could feel your eyes well up, hot with tears as you struggled underneath your assailant.  He grinned lewdly down at you, running the barrel of the gun against the side of your face.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take real good care of ya, little mouse.  All you have to do is keep your mouth shut.”

You closed your eyes, wishing that you were somewhere else, feeling the tears begin to spill as you whimpered with fright.   _This is it.  This is the moment that I can never come back from.  What did I do to deserve this?_

It happened so quickly that you didn’t realize what was happening.

One moment your attacker was on you, and then all of a sudden he wasn’t.  For a moment you thought that he had killed you; perhaps it was completely painless and the fear was over.  You were pulled out of this stupor when you heard what seemed to be your assailant grunting again and again in pain.  You slowly open your eyes, wiping the wetness from your cheeks.  You see your attacker doubled over on the ground, his gun down the alleyway.  Looking up you see the angry face of Frank, his own gun pressed against the temple of the mugger.

“You think it’s funny, asshole?!  You get your kicks out of scaring the shit out of a woman?!  You’re a piece of shit, nothing but scum!!”

You can see the anger in his eyes, his body poised to attack, which it seemed he already had done. Your attacker looked beat to hell, certainly much worse off than you.  You could see Frank’s trigger finger twitching, wanting the mugger to give him any reason to pull the trigger.  The pounding of your heart was nearly deafening; your flight or fight response kicking in once again.  You could hear Frank continuing to yell, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying. It was as if everything was moving in slow motion.

“Please…”

You managed to croak out. Your body trembled, trying to grasp at anything, feeling your hands scraping against the brick wall behind you. “Please…please don’t, Frank.”

He finally swung his head around, looking at you, his eyes wild.  Upon seeing your condition, his eyes softened, his grip still firm on your attacker.  You swallowed hard, whimpering again.  “Please…please don’t kill him in front of me, Frank.”

He shoved the man to the ground roughly, getting down into his face.  “If I ever see your ugly face anywhere ever again, the last fleeting moments of your life will be filled with a gun pressed against your head!” Frank stepped toward you, his hands on your shoulders, checking your body for physical damage.

“Did he do anything to you, (Y/N)?  Hurt you? Touch you?”

You shook your head.

“I need to hear you say it, (Y/N)!”

“No.  No Frank.  You came just in time.”

He held onto your shoulders until your breathing calmed down, his eyes focused on yours.  He let go, bending down to retrieve your purse, your attacker long gone.  You smiled a little at him as he handed you your purse, immediately frowning as you look at the ground.  Frank looks at you, tilting his head.  “What’s wrong?”

You look sadly at your grocery bag, the contents spilled out and dirtied by the ground.  You sigh, “The groceries.  I bought steaks…I was going to—“

You are cut off by Frank’s soft chuckling, his thumb wiping away the rest of the wetness from your crying off of your cheeks.

“That’s it?  That ain’t too bad, sweetheart.  C’mon, let’s get you upstairs.”

* * *

The three of you sat in your apartment, Frank, you, and even Max.  You laughed when he sheepishly looked at you.

“Uhh…takeout?”

You smiled, nodding as you brought over beer for the both of you.  You filled a bowl with water and set it on the floor for Max, smiling down at the dog as he lapped happily.  Sitting on the couch, taking a swig from the bottle you brought over, you put a shy hand on Frank’s forearm, causing him to look at you.

“Umm…I just wanted to say thank you.  That could have gone pretty south if you didn’t show up…”

He nodded, reaching down to scratch Max behind the ears.  Frank seemed to be a man of few words, but when he spoke, he made those words count.

You sat in quiet, comfortable silence for a while until the doorbell rang.  You jumped in surprise, still a little jittery from the incident in the alleyway.  Frank shot up, waving at you as he went to the door, retrieving the Chinese food he ordered while you were cleaning yourself up.  He set all of the food on your coffee table, handing you a pair of chopsticks.

“How much do I owe you Frank?”

He shook his head, smiling only just a little.  “Nothin’, kid.  I got this one.  You’ve been through enough today."

You could feel heat rising to your cheeks as you ate in silence, enjoying the quiet presence of Frank and the sloppy slurping of Max, amuse when Frank would toss the dog a piece of meat every so often.

It was getting more difficult to deny that you at least felt something for Frank.  Maybe it was only platonic, but you couldn’t deny how safe you felt around him.  He stopped when you asked him to, and he didn’t make a fuss of it.  You could no longer deny how it felt to have his strong hands grasp your shoulders tightly, fussing over you, making sure you were alright.  Hands that could kill in an instant, were nothing but kind to you.

**What mess did you get yourself into?**


	4. Stitches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Here is the next part of the Frank Castle/Reader story!

It had been a few days since you had heard from Frank.  You weren’t really surprised; you imagined his “night job” kept him busy.  You were putting away leftovers for the night when you heard a loud knocking on the wall that the both of you shared.  You followed the noise, pressing your ear to the wall.  After hearing the knocking again, you reciprocated, knocking back.  Thankfully the walls were thin enough to be able to understand who you hoped was Frank grumbling to you through the wall.

“Kid…come over…need your help…”

You weren’t sure what to think.  How bad was it that he was asking for _your_ help?  Hell, you couldn’t even over a damn pickle jar.  You grabbed your keys so you wouldn’t get locked out of your apartment (again) and went to his door, knocking.

“Um, Frank…are you okay?…”

“Mmmph….come in, kid…”

You swallowed hard, your heart thudding, hammering against your chest.  You remembered vaguely what his apartment looked like, filled with guns, and whatever else could kill people.  You jiggled the knob slowly, pushing the door open, hoping it wasn’t rigged to explode.  Sighing in relief that you were still in one piece you quickly made your way into the space, closing and locking the door behind you.  you could hear chuckling behind you.

“What do I have to do to convince you that I ain’t trying to kill ya, kid?”

You smiled sheepishly, stepping closer.  As you walked closer to Frank you took in the room, seeing all of the guns, ammunition, and other miscellaneous weaponry.  He followed your eyes, snickering.

“If this wasn’t such short notice, I would have cleaned up the mess.”

Laughing it off you stepped even closer, observing that he looked pretty beat up.  “What the hell happened to you, Frank?”

He grinned, shrugging his shoulders.  “Had a little too much fun tonight.  Need your help if you’re up to it.”

You nod, feeling compelled to help him.   _You don’t even know what he wants.  He could be asking you to help him murder and man and you just said yes.  What the hell is wrong with you?!  What is happening?!_

All of a sudden Frank was pulling his shirt off over his head, throwing it across the room.  You looked around the room wildly, trying to look anywhere but his solid, muscled chest and torso.   _They said he was a former marine, but DAMN._ He wasn’t overly cut but had just enough bulk to let you know that he knew how to kick ass.  He turned around, sitting backwards in his chair.

“That look like it needs stitches, (Y/N)?”

You gasped as you gazed upon the wound.  It was large and angry.  Stepping closer you noted how deep it was.

“This looks like it needs stitches, Frank…I, um…can drive you to the hospital if you’d like…”

“No hospitals, kid. They don’t tend to like me there…” He laughed bitterly.  “I need you to stitch it for me.  Are you up to it?”

You took a deep breath, eyeing the well-used medical kit.  “Yeah…yeah Frank it’s the least I can do for what you’ve done for me.  Is there somewhere that I can wash my hands?”

He nodded towards the kitchen sink.  You make quick work of cleaning your hands, returning to look at the wound.

“Alright Frank, let’s go to work.”

* * *

You held the curved needle between your fingers, trying to steady your shaking hands.   _I’ve never even had stitches myself and now I need to give him stitches.  Awesome.  Just great. Is there a wrong way to do stitches? I’ll probably learn the right way to do stitches after I fuck his up.  Because I’m going to need them.  Fucking hell._

Frank looked over his shoulder, entertained by your inner dialogue.  Still smiling, he looks at you.  He give you a thumbs up, his voice full of mirth mixed with a dash of sarcasm. “You got this, kid.”

All of your nerves dissipated as you rolled your eyes.  “Yeah, well it’s not my back, is it?”  You grumbled as you inspected the wound one last time before poising the needle at one end of the gash.  Taking a deep breath you push the needle through his skin, nearly jumping in fright as he screams loudly.  You immediately stop what you’re doing and start to ramble nervously.

“Frank I’m so so sorry!! I know I shouldn’t have done this! I—“

His body began to shake…with _laughter?_  “I’m sorry (Y/N), I couldn’t help myself.  You looked so damn nervous.  He continued to chuckle as you tried to not breathe fire.  Steadying yourself you pulled the needle the rest of the way through, creating another stitch.  He didn’t move an inch this time and you were pretty sure he knew that if he did you would impale him with the needle.  After you finish the last stitch ( _Do I tie a knot?  I’m going to tie a knot.),_ you wipe away any excess blood from the area.  You didn’t know what was happening but all of a sudden you found yourself pressing your lips near the wound, as if kissing it to make it better.  You felt his body tense up.  Realizing what you did, you recoil, cursing and sputtering out apologies.  You nearly run full speed out of his apartment, not caring to shut the door as you unlock and fling the door to your apartment open, slamming the door, and locking all the locks.  You lean against the door, sliding down until you were in a seated position.   _What the hell was wrong with you?!  You just kissed him.  You kissed a killer.  You kissed Frank, who showed no kind of feelings either way.  As if you bumbling around him weren’t bad enough you had to go and do that._ Drinking…er…chugging an overfull glass…er…pint glass of wine, you fell asleep, hoping that you’d be able to save face somehow tomorrow.

* * *

Thank goodness it was the weekend.  You lay in bed for a while, trying to will away the event of last night.   _Maybe if I just lie here…for the rest of my life…I won’t have to deal with it._  After about an hour and a half you hear a loud knocking at your door.   _This is it.  This is when he tells me on I’m his hit list or something._  Sighing heavily you trudge toward the door, perplexed when all you find is a note that was slid under your door

_(Y/N),_

_You ran out so fast last night that I didn’t get to thank you for stitching me up.  I wouldn’t have been able to reach that spot, and I know I sprung it on you, but I really appreciate the help._

_–Frank_

_P.S.  You have some real interesting bedside manner.  Can’t say I mind._

You grasp the note tightly to your chest, and although he wasn’t even in the room you found yourself flushing.

_What…what does that even mean?!_


	5. Trigger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I just wanted to say thank you so much for all of your positive feedback for this Frank Castle adventure I’ve been going on! Here is the next part!! Enjoy :)

_Running._

_You could hear the click of your heels slamming against the pavement as you heard your assailant behind you.  Your lungs were on fire, your chest heaving as you continued to move forward, knowing that if you stopped you would most likely be dead. The muscles in your legs started to spasm, exhausted and fatigued.  Why were you wearing such impractical shoes!?  While you were unfocused your ankle gave, making you tumble forward.  You were wrenched around, your attacker gripping you painfully by the shoulder.  He pressed the barrel of his gun right between your eyes.  You started to scream at the top of your lungs, and you could hear him laughing cruelly as the click of the trigger sounded and—_

“(Y/N)!!  (Y/N)!!  Wake the hell up!!”

You roused to a shirtless Frank shaking you awake, the both of you covered in sweat from the heat of the night.  Your heart was racing as you looked around wildly, taking a deep breath when you realized you were at home and safe.  Upon calming down you were able to focus on your surroundings, seeing that you fell asleep on your couch, noticing Max running around your house in attack mode, looking for intruders.  Your face soured when you noticed your front door.

“What the hell happened to my door, Frank?”

He looked at you rubbing the back of his head.  “Well…you were screaming bloody murder and it was locked…so…I kind of kicked it in.”

“You wanna repeat that for me?”

“I kicked your damn door in, alright!  I’ll fix it, just shut up about it already, damn…”

You rubbed your eyes, pulling the blanket up around your shoulders like a cape/cloak.   _Wasn’t this blanket in my bedroom?_ You sat up, sitting cross-legged at one end of the couch, Frank following suit and sitting next to you.

“Want to tell me what happened, kid?”

“Not really.”

He sent you a look.

“Alright, alright. I had a really bad dream…”

His stare communicated that he wasn’t pleased with your answer.

“It was about me being chased by that mugger…I kept running and running until my legs gave out…and then he shot me, right between the eyes.”  You motioned to the spot with your fingers.  “I think that’s about when you woke me up.”

Frank nodded, pursing his lips together a few times, as if in thought.  He slapped his hands down on the tops of his thighs, as if deciding what he was going to do.

“You’re scared of getting hurt, right?…Well we’re going to fix that.  Not tonight, but very soon…er, after I get this door fixed for ya so you can go back to sleep.  You got any coffee?”

You shook your head. “Umm…I don’t really drink it, but I have instant coffee packets in the cabinet if you’re interested.”

He looked at you incredulously, stopping in his tracks.  “You have really shit taste, you know that, kid?”

He ducked out of your apartment, to get what you hoped were tools.  You chuckled to yourself, rolling your eyes.  “Don’t I know it.”

You patted the spot next to you on the couch, Max hopping right up and snuggling into the blanket with you.

* * *

You didn’t know it, but Frank caught you and Max curled up on the couch and he smiled, quietly going to work on your door, and making sure you didn’t have any more bad dreams that night.

* * *

“Where the hell are you taking me?”

Frank rolled his eyes at you as he pulled you along, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, but your ranting and raving was certainly not helping.

“Can you just keep your mouth shut for like five more minutes, kid?!”

You shot him a nasty look as he pulled you into an abandoned warehouse by the docks.

“You know, Frank.  If I didn’t know you that well, I would think you brought me here to kill me…”

He didn’t even make an attempt to answer you as he peeled off his jacked, motioning for you to do the same.  As you looked around the warehouse, you noticed that there were makeshift targets set up.

“What’s going on…?”

“Well…” From seemingly out of nowhere he pulled out a gun.   _Like seriously, does this man have pockets sewn into all of his clothes?!  You know what…I don’t want to know._

“I know you’ve been having nightmares about when that guy tried to mug you, so I thought that you might want to learn how to shoot a gun…ya know…self-defense and all that bullshit.”

You shot him a withering look.  “I’ve never even held a gun before, Frank.  They scare the shit out of me.”

“Good.  They should scare you.  Gun’s aren’t toys.  Now c’mere…” He motioned to you, having you stand next to him as he explained all the different parts of the gun to you.  After what seemed like forever, he had you stand in front of him, your back to his front.  You could feel how close he was; smell the soap he must have used to wash with. You felt yourself growing hot at his proximity.   _What the hell (Y/N).  Pull yourself together.  He’s only trying to help you feel safer.  There is nothing going on between the both of you.  You’re about to shoot a damn gun, pay attention!_

Frank placed the gun in your hands, showing you how to grip it correctly.  He looked over your shoulder, helping you take aim at the target down at the other side of the warehouse.  You felt his hands wandering lower, nearly flinching when they rested on your hips, adjusting your stance.  You swallowed hard, feeling as if all of your nerves were alive and active, his breath at the bare skin of your neck almost too much to handle.

“When you are in a situation where you have to defend yourself, you can’t hesitate.  You either take the shot or get shot, kid.  Aim and fire.  Let’s see how you do.”

You steadied your breathing as you checked your aim one last time before pulling the trigger.  You gasped as you felt the kickback, pulling upward, and missing the target by a mile.  Frank chuckled behind you, close to your ear.

“That’s normal.  Try it again.”

You spent the night learning how to shoot, in an abandoned warehouse by the docks with Frank. It was getting light out when you were finally getting the hang of it, nicking the target a couple of times.

You stood around nervously, shifting your weight back and forth on each foot while Frank cleaned up the warehouse and put the gun away.  You nearly jumped a little as he approached you.  “You did a pretty good job, kid.”

“Yeah, thanks.  Let’s hope that if I get attacked it isn’t from one hundred feet away.”

He laughed, slinging an arm over your shoulder chuckling even more when he felt your body tense up a little at his touch.  With his free hand he rubbed the back of his head.

“So…so uh…since it’s basically breakfast time, you wanna go get a cup of coffee…?”

For the first time since you’ve known Frank, his voice sounded nervous.  Only slightly.  Barely traceable.  You looked up at him, a small smile on your lips.

“I’d like that.”

You didn’t even like coffee.


	6. Strike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! Part 6 of the Frank Castle/Reader fic!

Needless to say you felt much safer with the 9mm that Frank taught you how to use.  It rested comfortably in your nightstand, making sure to put it in your purse when you went out for the night.  You wondered why he was being so kind to you; he didn’t owe you anything, if anything you owed him.  And yet…it seemed like he kept interjecting himself into your life.  If not him, then definitely Max.

* * *

You were trudging up the stairs after a long day at work when you heard loud footsteps.  They seemed to be running.  You shrugged, carrying on with continuing up the flight, sighing happily as you reached the final step.  As you turned the corner from the hallway to get to where your apartment was you were tackled to the ground.  You went to the floor with an “oof,” your eyes closed.  You furrowed your eyebrows when your attacker began to lick at your face. _What the hell?  Is that fur?_  As you opened your eyes, you were overtaken by a fit of giggles.  Max.  That damn adorable dog.  You tried to push him off, still laughing your head off when Frank rounded the corner, grunting as he looked at you and his dog.

“Sorry, kid.  He’s been giving me the slip all day.”

You smiled up at him, scratching Max behind the ears.  “It’s not a big deal.  He’s too cute to stay mad at.”

Frank grumbled.  “Yeah…real adorable.”

You got up, brushing off your pants as you fished your keys out from your purse.  “Well…I’ll see you later then, Frank.  Bye Max!”  You smiled as you made to turn towards your door when you felt a heavy firm hand on your shoulder.

“Could you uh…just wait a second, (Y/N)?”

You turned to face him, waiting for him to continue.  Frank took a deep breath, his jaw clenching as if he were about to tell you the most important thing you were ever going to hear.  Max circled the both of you impatiently.

“So I was thinking…ya know…if you aren’t doing anything sometime, if you wanted to go bowling or something…”  Frank shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging.

You looked at him, bewildered.   _Did he just…?_  Chewing on your lower lip, you fidgeted, finally willing yourself to look up at him.  “Umm, yeah. Yes.  That sounds like it could be fun!”  You tried to smile convincingly, trying to keep yourself from disintegrating right on the spot.

“How does Saturday night, about 7ish sound?”

“Sounds great, Frank.”

“Uh…good.  I’ll uh…see you later, kid.”

You nodded, making your way into your apartment.  Plopping yourself onto your couch, you put your head into your hands.   _What was happening?_

* * *

Saturday.  You were pacing around your apartment, half a glass of wine in as you tried to figure out what you should wear.   _It’s just bowling, right?  It would look real stupid if I dressed up.  Okay.  (Y/N). You can do this._

Breathing deeply, you settled on your couch.  You could only imagine how tough this must have been on Frank as well, even though he was the one who asked you to go bowling with him.  You weren’t naïve; you read The Daily Bulletin and learned all about Frank.  Sure, you knew about his killer tendencies, but the Bulletin shed some light on who he was as a person. He was a former Marine, a loving husband, a devoted father, and an all-around good guy.  All the things in his life that gave him joy were taken away from him all at once, his life tumbling down in front of his eyes.  You understood why he felt the need to take vengeance for the family that was so abruptly and unfairly taken from him.  While you weren’t sure if you agreed with his choices or not, you really didn’t want to make any unfair judgements about Frank.  You had never been through what he had gone through, and although you knew that killing people was wrong, he was cleaning up Hell’s Kitchen, taking out all of the men that made you walker quicker at night, the people who made you constantly afraid of walking alone, the men like your attacker.  How could you ever hate him for that?

* * *

You couldn’t believe how good of a bowler Frank was.  You sat there, nursing your beer as he lined himself up on the alley.  It was hard for you to stop smiling, watching him enjoy the evening.  Even if you did suck at bowling, it was really enough to be able to see him in such a _normal_ setting.  No guns, no breaking into your apartment for you, no imminent threat of danger.   Sure, the thought of a date at a bowling alley wasn’t the most romantic thing you could think of, but right now, in this moment, you were truly happy.  You cheered as you watched Frank knock down all the pins, nearly rolling your eyes as he sauntered smugly back over to you. He shrugged, motioning for you to take your turn.

“Ya want me to ask if they can put the bumpers up for you, kid?”

You shoved him playfully, huffing as you picked up the bowling ball you so painstakingly picked out for yourself (“Frank, it absolutely matters what color it is.  I don’t want to bowl with an ugly ball!”). Lining yourself up you swung and released the ball, nearly throwing a temper tantrum as it rolled right into the gutter.  Frank chuckled as you approached the ball return.

“Shut up Frank.  I feel like you’re hustling me!!”

You rolled your eyes, picking up your ball for your second attempt.  You flinched as you felt warm, strong hands at your hips.  Frank’s hot breath lingered at your neck and ear.

“You’re standing all wrong, (Y/N).  Put one foot forward, there that’s it.  Make sure you follow through with the release.”

Doing exactly as he said, you finally let go of the ball, nearly squealing when it hit four pins. You turned around, jumping up and down as you pulled him into a crushing hug.  Realizing that you were hugging a killing machine you quickly released him, muttering an apology.  Frank rubbed the back of his head, seemingly a little knocked off balance as well.

“No worries, kid. Wasn’t unpleasant.”

The night thankfully continued on with pleasant small talk.  You were worried that your hug might have made the entire evening awkward. Despite hanging people up on meat hooks and shooting them until their faces looked like Swiss cheese, Frank was a complete gentleman, even walking you to your apartment (albeit his was right next door).  The both of you had a hard time looking at each other, not knowing how to proceed.   _Should I kiss him?  Is he going to kiss me?  Maybe a handshake?  Fist bump?_

Frank took a step toward you.  “Listen (Y/N), I haven’t done anything like this in a really long time…hell, I didn’t think I’d ever do anything like this ever again—“

“I understand Frank, this was nice, we don’t have to ruin it by calling it anything.  Let’s just say that two friends had a nice evening together and—“

You saw it.  His face coming towards yours.  Inching closer and closer as if in slow motion.  You could already feel your cheeks heating up as his hand reached the back of your head, pulling your face to meet his, planting a firm kiss to your lips.

“G’night, kid.”

He left you at your door breathless.


	7. Care

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Here is the next Frank/Reader part! This is part 7 for anyone that’s counting! :P

It was about a week later and you could still feel the searing heat of Frank’s lips against yours. It only lasted a moment, but it felt as if his lips were seared onto your own, hyperaware of the roughness of them. Stirring from sleep, you stretched, feeling the near-orgasmic feeling of your joints popping and muscles stretching after a long sleep.  Rolling out of bed you stumbled into your kitchen, digging out your favorite mug out of the dishwasher when you heard it. Flinching, you heard the loud hacking noise of presumably Frank coughing up a fit next door.   _Was he sick?_  Throwing your robe and slippers on, you slip out into the hallway knocking on his door.

“Um…Frank…?  Frank are you okay?”

You could hear shuffling, muttered curses as he seemed to come closer to the door.  From the hallway it seemed as though he was trying to straighten up a little before he opened the door to his apartment.  As he opened the door, your face fell as you took in the state of him.  He had dark circles under his eyes (not from being punched in the face, shockingly), his nose was red and seemingly stuffy, and he just looked like Hell personified. You took a step towards him, placing the back of your hand at his forehead, checking his temperature.  You frowned, feeling the heat emanating from his skin.

“You have a fever, Frank.”

“I’m fine.  Leave it alone, kid.  Don’t worry about me.”

You rolled your eyes, brushing past him to gather Max and his supplies.  Frank turned around, nearly looking panicked as you traversed through his apartment.

“What the hell are you doing, kid?”

You turned around, smiling sheepishly as you knock over some opened cans of what looked like military rations.

“You’re going to camp out next door with me.  You’re sick, and you’re not going to get better living like this.”

“Kid, I said I’m fine—“

“It wasn’t a question, Frank.  Now go pack yourself some clothes, unless you want me digging through your unmentionables.”

“Sounds like you’ve been thinkin’ about my underwear, (Y/N)…”

You flush, turning around so he couldn’t get the satisfaction of flustering you.  You already knew he was wearing a smug smirk, chuckling at you as you usher Max through the apartment and through the door.

* * *

You set Max’s supplies down, giggling to yourself as he flopped himself up on your couch as if he had lived there his entire doggie life.  You pulled out your recipe book, opening it up on the counter as you pulled out your large cooking pot, the one you affectionately referred to as the “grandma pot.”  Throwing in some water and a few chicken bouillon cubes (hey, it’s pretty close to scratch), you placed the lid halfway onto the pot to let the water boil.  Looking over your shoulder, you saw Frank shutting and locking your door, plopping himself down on your couch, muttering at Max to move. You smiled as you returned to your work, pulling vegetables out of your fridge, prepping them to be chopped.

“You really don’t have to go through all this trouble, (Y/N).”

You turned around. “It’s really okay, Frank, I really don’t mind.  You were never going to get better in that hellhole you call an apartment…do you ever clean that place?”

“Oh yeah, definitely…it’s especially fun to clean it after a night of dealing with gang members and wanna be mobsters.”

You were about to retort when he started coughing.  You rushed over to him with a glass of water, sitting gingerly next to him on the couch, rubbing his back while he drank.  As you realized your proximity you began to scoot away, tensing as he threw an arm over your shoulder, keeping you close.

“…this alright, kid?”

“I…I-uh…–“

Frank turned to face you, seeming slightly nervous.  “Listen. I, uh…about the other day…”

You chewed on your lip. _This was it.  He was going to tell you how it was weird, and that he was sorry that he kissed you._ Your heart pounded faster, eyes expectantly looking into his.   _He’s going to tell you that he just wants to be neighbors and that’s it.  Did you want it to be more?_  As you watched him, it looked as though he was struggling to find words.   _Why do I want more with him?  What would I be getting into?  Would I be a target for his enemies?  Do I even care?_

“The other day…it was…”

_And here is where the other shoe drops._

“…nice.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, the intensity of his gaze almost too much for you to bear.  You swallowed hard, mustering up the courage to say something, anything to him.  As you were about to speak he began to cough violently, his arm moving away from your shoulders, the warm, heavy comfort of his arm now gone.  Getting up, you grabbed his glass of water to refill it, nearly tripping over Max as you made your way back. Bringing the glass to his lips, forcing him to drink, and your hands trembled, adrenaline pumping through your veins at his confession.   _He thought the kiss was nice.  That’s probably the best you were going to get out of him.  He was a man a few words, after all._

Frank placed a hand over yours holding the glass.  You made to let go but he wouldn’t let you.  Curling his fingers around yours, he continued.

“This is all new for me again, kid.  I didn’t think…”

Finding courage that you didn’t know you possessed, you placed a hand on his shoulder, making him look at you.

“What I mean to say is…spending time with you…I like it.”

You smiled.  That was definitely enough for you, right now at least.

“I like spending time with you too, Frank.  I—“

Your head whipped around as you looked back at the pot on the stove about to bubble over.  Letting out a noise between a shriek and a gasp, you sprang up; hurrying over to the pot to throw the vegetables and the chicken in, working on the soup you were making, hoping it would make him feel better.  It was maybe ten minutes later when you finally turned around, nearly grinning so hard that your mouth threatened to fall off. Frank had fallen asleep, a blanket half thrown over him.  Max had at some point jumped back up onto the couch, curling up next to his master.  You stared at the scene in front of you, hoping to memorize this moment for the rest of your life.  The scene was so utterly domestic an absurd.  A vigilante killer was cuddled up with his dog on your couch, sick as hell, as you prepared chicken soup for him.

What has become of your life?  What was going to become of your life?  It didn’t really matter right now.  You turned the pot of soup down on low on the stove, grabbing a book on the way over back to your couch.  Max knowingly scooted closed to you, putting his head on your lap as you put your feet up on the coffee table, getting comfortable.

**This was contentment.**


	8. Stolen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Here is the next chapter of my Frank Castle series. This is part 8! I’m thinking I’m going to end this series at 10 chapters. It’s been a super awesome run and I don’t want it to drag on. 
> 
> Recommended listening while you read: Arsonist’s Lullabye by Hozier
> 
> I hope you enjoy!!

Black.

All you could see were dark shadows; unmoving dark masses.  How long had you been out for?  You tried to move your hands but found it useless; they were tied at the wrist.  As you pulled, trying to loosen your restraints, you bit your lip.  Zip ties. Shit.  You could feel your heart begin to race as you tried to take your surroundings in, trying to see if you could figure out exactly where the hell you were, but it was entirely too dark where you were being held.  The last thing you remember is walking down the street, towards your apartment.  The next thing you knew, you woke up here.  You had no idea how long you’d been here, but you tried to keep calm.  If whoever took you wanted you dead, you’d probably be so by now.

After some time you could hear footsteps, hard soles sounding against the concrete floor.  Your voice was lost in your throat, but it was probably better that way.  You didn’t want to upset your captor…captors…?  It didn’t really matter at this point.  The footsteps came closer, your blood pumping in your ears as the sound approached you, finally stopping in front of you.  You could hear them breathing, their hot breath prickling your skin.  You almost wanted to groan out in disgust, doing your best to hold the noise in.  Your hands instinctively tried at the zip ties, hissing as the sharp plastic bit into your skin.  Whoever was in front of you chuckled.

“Hello there little birdy.  Did somebody clip your wings?”

The voice was rough and masculine; you winced, his voice sounding as though he gargled with rusty nails.

“Boss doesn’t wanna have to hurt ya, toots. All you have to do is move that pretty little mouth and tell us where that psychopath is.”

You still couldn’t see anything; the only light in the room that you were being held was the ambient light from a dirty, haphazardly-covered window.  You whimpered, your adrenaline beginning to increase.

“C’mon, sweetheart, don’t be like that.  This doesn’t have to be difficult.  Just tell me where he is and you don’t have to get hurt.”

Total bullshit.  You weren’t stupid.  You watched enough _Law and Order_ and crime dramas to know that there wasn’t going to be an easy way out of this.  You could only hope that somehow Frank knew that you were missing and was able to find you in time.  Would he come find you?  Did he care enough?  It seemed that he did; if that kiss was any indication of his feelings, he definitely felt something.  The way he let you take care of him.  You were sure that no one had done that for him in a very long time.  When was the last time someone had shown him kindness? He was used to such terrible treatment; dealing with the most vile and awful creatures that had the audacity to call themselves people.  He had no one to hold him, no warmth in his life.  All he had was the cold, damp, dirty stench of these filthy criminals, nothing soft, nothing friendly.  Hopefully you could stall this man long enough for help to arrive.  

“I…I don’t know who you’re talking about…”

Smooth.  Like that ever worked. You were letting this play out like a typical TV show, but this time you were going to be the victim.  You tried to breathe, finding that the rush of air was burning your lungs.  

“I’m going to ask you one last time, little birdy.  Where. Is.  Castle?”

You wracked your brain, trying to think of something, anything to say.  You sure as hell weren’t going to tell them about how he is your neighbor, and how the both of you are kind of something, but not really.  You’d never give him up.  He has done so much good for Hell’s Kitchen, so much good for you. How could you ever just do that to him? You shook your head, your voice definitely giving you away, wavering.

“I…I really have no idea who you’re talking about…”

You could hear the man sigh, turning to walk away, the sound of his heels growing softer and softer. You thought you were in the clear until you heard him approaching again, his steps quicker and louder this time.  You winced as you felt the cold barrel of a gun pressed right between your eyes.  You could smell the dirty metal, every nerve coming to life as your hands tried to pull against the plastic zip ties that kept you prisoner.

“This could have been so easy, sweetheart.  All you had to do was tell me where that bastard was.  Now I have to kill you.  It’s kind of a shame, really.  Boss said I could have ya if you talked.”

You swallowed hard, the sound of your pounding heart deafening as you heard the click, letting out an audible whimper as he cocked the gun.  You closed your eyes, tears threatening to spill as you took your last few breaths, the last image in your mind was when Frank leaned in and kissed you. _I’ve lived a good life.  I’ve been happy.  I made him happy, I think.  I would have liked to love him if I was given the chance._

And just like that, you heard a deafening shot, your eyes closed, muscled tensed.  You could feel the warm wet spray of blood, wondering how long it was going to take for you to fade away.  You counted in your head.  When you came up on a minute, you became confused, wondering why you weren’t dead.  You opened your eyes, gasping.

Bathed in the dingy yellow light of the lightbulb dangling from the ceiling ( _Really?  Where the hell was that when I needed it?!_ ) was Frank.  He was covered in spattered blood, the light creating shadows and highlights against his skin, the blood spatter almost glistening as he approached you, his eyes softening as he took in your state.  His eyes softened as he pulled a knife from his boot.

“I’ve got you, kid. Stay real still for me.”

You nodded, your eyes scanning the now dimly lit room, your body tensing as you realized why you heard a gunshot.  Your assailant lay dead, a bloody mess where his head used to be.  

“Don’t look at that, kid. That’s not your mess.”

Your eyes were unmoving, gasping as he finally cut you free of those horrid zip ties, wincing as the circulation came back into your wrists.  You sat there, too scared to move.  Frank stood up, hefting you up into his arms as you started to sob into his chest, gripping tightly to him as you felt his lips brush against your hairline, half-carrying you out of wherever the hell you were.  

When you finally made it back to your apartment, Frank stayed with you, holding you as he tried to lull you to sleep.  This was never supposed to happen to you.  He murmured into your hair, the comforting sounds of the traffic outside keeping him grounded.

“It’s selfish.  I shouldn’t drag you into this hell with me, kid.  This ain’t the place for you to be.  You deserve so much more than this.  More than me. You took something from me though. Something I wanted to give you. Still want to give you.  I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you, kid.  Tonight was just the beginning.  You don’t need a monster like me dragging you down.”

Frank laid you down gently on your couch, bending down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment as he quietly got up and walked out the door.

**And if he could help it, hopefully out of your life.**


	9. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WhaBAM! Here’s the second to last chapter of this series! I’m thinking maybe after this series finishes, I’d like to write little snippets of Frank Castle/Reader in this same “universe.” You think that’s a good idea?
> 
> As always, let me know what you think!
> 
> Suggested listening: Till the Sun Turns Black by Ray LaMontagne

It had been three days.

Three long days since you were holed up in that awful room, since the plastic of the zip ties bit into your skin, since you had the barrel of a gun pressed to your head, since you saw Frank.

You hadn’t seen Frank in three days.

Sure, you’d heard him alright, smiling to yourself as you heard him curse and fight with Max.  That dog never seemed to listen to him.  It wasn’t as though you were avoiding him.  It actually seemed to be the opposite.  You had gone to his door a day after what you have been referring to as “the incident.”  You knocked on his door for almost ten minutes, knowing that he was inside.  Sighing, feeling defeated, you trudge back to your place, plopping yourself down on your couch.   _What happened?_  The both of you were getting closer and then all of a sudden he wanted to drop off the face of the Earth.  Maybe he was scared.  You scoffed at that idea, but shook your head.  It wasn’t that far-fetched.  You were sure that he hadn’t been in an actual relationship since…well…you weren’t going to even think about that.  It must have been hard for him to see you that way, covered in someone else’s blood, tied to a chair.  Hell, you weren’t too excited when you finally got to see what you looked like after all of that.  Finding a piece of paper you decided to write:

_Frank,_

_I wanted to thank you for saving me.  I understand why you’re not talking to me.  I miss you._

_–(Y/N)_

You slipped that note under his door two days ago and had heard absolutely nothing.  You pouted as you nursed a mug of tea, sitting cross-legged, wondering what the hell you were supposed to do.  Should you just let it go?  Should you just pretend that the emotional connection you had never existed? Fuck that.

_Frank,_

_At least talk to me.  Tell me to my face that you don’t want to see me anymore.  At least look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t want to talk anymore.  You owe me that at least._

_–(Y/N)_

_Frank,_

_I’m almost positive you got the last note I sent you.  You’re not being fair.  At least give me some closure.  I know you’re trying to protect me and all of that garbage, but at least let me see you. One last time._

_–(Y/N)_

_Asshole,_

_Are you serious?  You really can’t respond to anything?  I thought you were different Frank.  I guess I didn’t mean as much to you as you meant to me._

_–(Y/N)_

You were incredibly frustrated.  It had been days since you sent that last note.  You stomped up the stairs leading to your apartment, probably waking up every little old lady that lived in the building, but you didn’t care.  How could he just drop off the face of the Earth like that?  How could he do that to you?  You huffed as you turned the corner, raising an eyebrow when you see a piece of paper taped to your door.   _Seriously?  Duct tape? This better not peel my paint off._ Pulling the paper from your door, you dart inside, knowing how nosy your neighbors were.  You dropped your keys in a bowl next to the door, toeing your shoes off as you read the note.

_Kid.  I’m bad for you.  You deserve better than a killer._

_–Frank_

You crumpled the note up, throwing it out in the garbage.  Who was he to be able to decide what choices you got to make in your life?  Who you wanted to be with?  That wasn’t his decision and you’d be damned if he was going to make it for you.  You walked over to the wall and banged on it with your fist, pounding as hard as you can.

“You’re a bastard you know that?!  Who the hell do you think you are that you get to decide my life?!  Did you not think I knew the consequences!?”  

You held your hand, now red and angry as you slid down the wall, eyes welling up with tears. You spoke softer, wondering if he could even hear you.  

“You were never a monster to me.  You never will be.”

* * *

Half a bottle of wine later and you were staggering out onto your fire escape in your pajamas, feet bare.  You held the bottle of wine in one hand, the rail with the other as you screamed out into the night, tears still running down your face.

“Frank Castle is nothing but a piece of shit!  He is afraid of what’s right in front of him!”

Your speech was starting to slur as you hung precariously over the railing, taking another swig from the wine bottle.

“So much for bein’ the DAMN PUNISHER!  What a crock a’ shit!  He ain’t nothin’ but a pissy baby!!  You hear that you sonuva bishhhh?!  YOouuuu. Arrrrrrre.  A—“  The bottle of wine dropped from your hand, making a loud, wet crash on the ground below you.  You threw your head back, laughing, losing your balance a little as you braced yourself with both hands against the rail.  You pressed your forehead to the railing, a sob ripping through your body as you let out a string of expletives.

“I really am an asshole, huh kid?”

You swung your head around, scrubbing your face with your hand when you notice that Frank is sitting on his window sill, his eyebrows furrowed as he took in your form.  He stepped out onto the fire escape, tight black t shirt and jeans, socks.  He approached you slowly, leaning one arm against the railing. You flung yourself at him, fists pounding into his chest as he stood there unmoving, letting you get it out as you yelled at him, tears streaming down your face.  He held you there for a while, feeling the goosebumps rise on your skin.  

After some time, he pulled you toward your window, rolling his eyes and chuckling once he realized that you yet again locked yourself out.  He moved toward his window, taking you with him.  Leaning you against the window sill, he crawled through into his apartment, helping you through.  You slumped against him, murmuring incoherent words.  Frank slipped his arm underneath your legs, sweeping you up against his chest as he carried you over to his messy bed, laying you down.  He moved the blankets to lay next to you, slipping his arm underneath you, pulling your form to his.

“You are so much damn trouble, kid.”

You looked up at him, your head nestled underneath his chin, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the muscles ripple under your touch.

“Funny.  I could say the same about you.”

He kissed you.  He pressed his lips to your unabashedly, unforgivingly as if he was dying of thirst.  You could only react, melting into him as his hands roamed your body, looking at you as if this was the first time he had ever seen you.

“You really want to be with a monster, (Y/N)?  A killer?”

You let your head rest against his shoulder, your eyes growing heavily as you let out a yawn.

“No, of course not Frank. I want to be with you.”


	10. Commando

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is folks! This is the last installment of the Frank Castle/Reader series. I’m so happy with the way this entire series turned out, and I hope you liked it as well! Please let me know what you think! 
> 
> There will be (so far) two timestamps after this chapter that look at random moments in the lives of Frank Castle and the reader. Enjoy! xoxo

Do you know that moment where you know you’ve woken up, but your eyes are still closed, hoping that you can go back to sleep, and remain in that moment forever?

You could feel strong warm arms wrapped around you, the heartbeat next to your ear thumping consistently, steadily.  With your eyes still closed, you allowed your hands to run up those arms, the muscles tensing as they pull you closer to the sturdy form of the man who had protected you, taken care of you, taught you how to defend yourself.  But he was so much more than that.  He was one of the best men you’ve come to know.  He was compassionate, considerate, warm.  He was all of the things that the media didn’t make him out to be.  And yet, here you were, locked in his arms, trying to will yourself back to sleep so this moment could last just a little while longer.  You huffed a little to yourself, frustrated that sleep was evading you.

“You know you’re not very stealthy, kid.”

You could feel fingers running through your hair, rubbing softly at your scalp.  You muttered, grumbling a little as you rubbed at your face, pouting as you finally open your eyes.  You knew he was chuckling at you because of the way your face moved as his chest vibrated.  You tiled your head upwards towards him, nearly flushing to death as his lips found your forehead, lingering there, feeling the warm emanate from that spot on your forehead through the rest of your body, slowly seeping into every single cell.  You took a deep breath in; your head lolling back to look up at him fully, chewing on your lip when you noticed that he was already looking down at you.

“I never want to move…ever.”

Frank hummed against your skin, finally releasing you, rolling you so your back is flat against his bed.  He hovers above you, his eyes boring into yours, as if memorizing every single detail in your face.  His arms box you in, forearms on either side of your head as he bends down, taking your lips with his own.  His legs were on either side of your hips, kissing you fervently, his hands sliding to cup the back of your head, pulling you even closer to him.

“If I have my way today, you ain’t going anywhere.”

You were about to retort when you heard barking.  Frank groaned, rolling his eyes, muttering about some “damn dog” always “ruining the god damn moment.”  You pulled the covers up around you, giggling softly into the coarse fabric as you watched him pad away to take care of Max.  You mused about how you landed yourself in this situation.  How could you utterly care so much about a man who you met on your damn fire escape?  Better yet, who the hell meets men on their fire escape?  You rolled your eyes, cocooning yourself in his blankets, wrapping yourself in the scent that was so utterly him.  You were lost in your thoughts when Frank made his way back to you, smirking as he watched you have an inner dialogue with yourself, wrapped up like a damn burrito.

“S’it weird if I think you still look damn sexy like that?”

You swung your head around to see Frank leaning against the doorframe.  He stalked towards you slowly, his hands pulling at the hem of his shirt, peeling it slowly off his frame, his eyes never leaving yours as his legs finally hit the edge of his bed.  You looked at him, feeling nervous and excited as his hands rested on the edges of the blankets, the smirk on his lips growing as your eyes widened.  Without saying a word he pulling, and because the blankets were so tightly wrapped around you, you went with them, being dragged closer and closer.  He chuckled as you let out an audible “meep” as you stared sheepishly at him.  He gripped you by the shoulders, his mouth finding yours again, groaning against your lips as you wriggled, trying to free yourself of the blankets.  Frank nearly tore the blankets off of you, leaving you in your pajamas from last night, sprawled out on his bed, your hair fanning out around you.

“Man could get used to this…”

You look up at him, wondering how you got so lucky as he bent down once more, his hands sliding behind you, hands slipping up under your shirt, feeling your back bare underneath his hands as his lips went to your neck, your back arching for him as he nipped at your collar bone, his hands slowly pulling your shirt from your body, tossing it somewhere in his room.  You weren’t even naked and he was staring down at you, taking you in. Bending down, he plants kisses to the valley in between your breasts, your hands instantly threading into his hair, his hands pressing your breasts together as his lips slowly descent lower and lower.  He kissed right above the hemline of your shorts, pausing as he looked up at you.  He sat up on his heels, one hand grabbed at your hip bone, the other pulling nervously through his own hair.  You sit up, your legs framing his hips.

“You okay, Frank?”

“S’been a while.”

“Me too.”

You could see his Adam’s apple bob as his hands found the elastic of his sweatpants, your breath hitching as he began to slowly pull them down and off, nearly hypnotized as he moved. You had seen him with his shirt off before, but this…being completely bare in front of you, it was as if he was letting himself be vulnerable, letting every single wall down to be with you. You took him in, looking away when you realized he was staring smugly at you.  

“Didn’t realize you were a commando kind of guy, Frank…”

“Well I was a Marine, kid.  Now…you look a little overdressed to me.”

Frank pressed you gently back down onto the bed, his hands finding the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down slowly to leave you completely bare underneath him.

“Didn’t realize you were a commando kind of girl, (Y/N)…”

You roll your eyes, grinning.

“Well I was a Marine, Frank.”

He laughed, genuinely as his mouth found yours again, hips pressing against your own as the both of you ground against each other, relishing in the warmth of each other’s flesh. He slipped a hand down in between your bodies, your hips arching off of the bed as he brushed against that sensitive bundle of nerves, his eyes burning into yours as he watched you writhe.  It seemed like forever until he finally lined himself up with your entrance, his hands finding yours, fingers interlocking.  

You thought waking up with Frank was the moment you wanted to be in forever, but it was really this one, where your bodies were pressed together, your hearts racing, eyes glued to each other as he slowly slid himself inside of you, both of you groaning, the delicious stretch almost too much to bear.  The both of you continued to rock against each other, calling out each other’s names as your bodies tremble, finishing in each other’s arms.

You never thought that you would be laying here, in the middle of the morning in the arms of a man that the world viewed as a killer, a psycho, a man who had little regard for life. And yet…here you were.  This man was so much more than the way people viewed him; he was a good man.  A good man. And you felt so very lucky that you were a complete klutz and locked yourself outside your apartment, so that you could find your place in his heart.

“You got any plans today, kid?”

“Nothing that I can’t move around.”

“Good.”

“Good.”


	11. Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Here is a timestamp from the Serendipity universe! xoxo

_Seriously?_

_Why couldn’t he have a birthday that happened in a normal month, like August, or January?  As if that weren’t bad enough, why did his damn birthday have to be so close to another holiday?  Especially one that had went so spectacularly awful._

February 16th.

_Why did his damn birthday have to be two damn days after Valentine’s Day?!_

You huffed, pulling on your jacket and gloves, still not knowing what the hell you were going to get Frank for his birthday. _Nothing like buying someone’s birthday present on the same day as their birthday._  Shuffling along outside, cursing the disgusting dirty slush that was NYC snow, you trudged to the bus, hoping to find something at the department store that he’d appreciate.

* * *

Thankfully you sat down next to a seemingly normal person on the bus as you contemplated what exactly to buy him.   _Clothes? No.  He’d hate anything that I pick out.  Some kind of gadget?  No. Max would probably destroy it. Fuck.  What if I knit him a gun cozy?  Yeah…that would look really tough._ You sighed into your hands, elbows resting on your knees until your stop finally came up.

* * *

Stashing your gloves in your pockets you trudged through the busy department store, seeing people flock to counters selling clearance Valentine’s Day chocolate.  You were instantly brought back to two days earlier when your first Valentine’s Day with Frank had been an utter disaster.

* * *

_“So nice to see you five hours late for dinner, Frank.”_

_“Shit, kid.  I’m sorry…there were these guys down at the docks and…well…you know…wait…why are you all dolled up…shit.”_

_You sighed, pushing yourself up off the couch, pulling his now cold dinner out of the fridge, heating it up for him in the microwave._

_“It’s fine.  I get it, I really do.  It’s just…this was our first Valentine’s Day together…and well…I’m not usually one to get really hyped up about this kind of stuff…I just wanted it to be special…for the both of us.”_

* * *

You strolled past all of those people, trying to shake the disappointment out of your mind.   _How could you possibly be mad at a man who put his own life on the line for people who wouldn’t even know that he had?  It was difficult to stay mad at him._  You spent nearly an hour meandering through the store, becoming increasingly frustrated at your inability to buy him a birthday present.   _Why is this so hard?  I should know what he likes, right?  Why don’t I know what he likes?  Well…I know he likes killing bad guys…can’t really get him that._ You found yourself paused in front of a display, a smile forming on your lips as you realized you finally found something that you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, Frank would absolutely love.   _Perfect._

* * *

As you made your way back up the stairs to your door you heard faint music playing.  Wondering what the hell was going on, you open the door cautiously, trying to prep yourself for whatever what happening inside.  You were met with a lovely surprise.

The lights were dimmed low and you realized that the music was old Doo-Wop from the 50s, which you absolutely adored.  You could hear Max padding closer and closer to you, and you nearly bit back a laugh when you realized that he had on a little red bow tie.  “Frank…?  Isn’t today _your_ birthday?  And how the hell did you get Max to sit still to get a bow tie on him?!”

“It wasn’t easy, kid. I’ll tell ya that.”

Frank stepped into your line of vision, dressed in black sweatpants and one of the tight black shirts that you have come to love.  He stepped forward, helping you out of your coat as he ushered you to the kitchen table. You bit back another laugh as you saw the spread: pepperoni pizza on your nicest plates and soda in your red wine glasses.

“You didn’t have to do all this Frank.  It is your birthday after all,” you took a seat, shuffling your chair closer to his.

“Well the way I see it…since Valentine’s Day and my birthday are so close, we might as well just celebrate them together.  Here…”

He picked up a bag from under the table, handing it to you.  “…s’a Valentine’s Day present.”

“Frank—“ You tried to admonish him but the look in his eyes was not giving you any room to do so. You nearly gaped as you pulled a very lacy, very red, and very see-through little number out of the bag.

Upon seeing your reaction, Frank started to babble, trying to take it from you.  “Kid…’m sorry…I just thought that…maybe…”

You shook your head, finally erupting in laughter.  “Frank…” You pulled the same exact little number out of your bag.  Clearly the both of you could compromise on some things.

“…I guess we can match now.”

He raised an eyebrow, rolling his eyes.  “Yeah…I don’t think I could fit into your panties, kid…but hey…you think that the pizza could be left out for like an hour or so?”

You furrowed your brow.   _What the hell is he going on about?_  “Umm…yeah I guess so, why?”

Frank rose wordlessly from his seat, taking both bags, grabbing you with his other arm.

“We’ve got some holidays to make up for…”

**Pizza tastes just fine when you reheat it in the oven.**

 


	12. Stella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I haven’t written anything in forever so I really hope you like this! To be honest I’m really scared it’s crap.  
> Feedback is greatly appreciated, as always. xoxo

“Food’s here kid!”

You heard the rough voice of your vigilante-lover booming from the front door.  You were encased, cocooned in blankets, Max dutifully snoozing at your side, snoring ever so lightly.  Heavy footsteps approached you, boots stopping right in front of you.

“The hell are you doing?”

You cracked an eye open, smiling slyly at him, giving Max a scratch before pulling the blankets up closer to your face.

“Stella’s coming.”

You could practically feel him roll his eyes.

“That some kind of period thing?”

You let loose a torrent of giggles, jolting Max up from his sleep, hearing him huff as he pads his way over to Frank.

“I think you’re thinking of Aunt Flo, babe…”

“Flo, Stella, hell I don’t know.”

He placed the bags down, parking himself on the coffee table in front of you.

“So…who’s this Stella chick?”

You sat upright, the blankets coming with you, still snuggled into your blanket burrito.

“It’s not a person, Frank.  The blizzard! You know the one that’s been on the news?  Maybe if you weren’t perched on rooftops all night you’d know all about it.”

“Yeah, yeah.  I got it.  You’re real subtle, ya know that?”

You pouted at him. He knew that his nighttime activities were cutting into the time he was able to spend with you.  It was something the both of you talked at length about.  The service and sacrifice Frank made was something that you could only commend.  Although you knew his late night patrols didn’t have the noblest of intentions, he was still keeping Hell’s Kitchen safe and relatively free of the monsters that used to lurk in the shadows.

That being said, you wished that you could will yourself to be a little more selfish, a little more vocal with your desire to have Frank home with you on more nights.  You were realistic however.  You knew going into this relationship with him that you weren’t going to have a white picket fence.  Frank had already had that life and seemed to want nothing of it ever again, that image forever tainted for him.  You were fine with that, you weren’t so sure yourself that that kind of life was something you ever wanted.  Though it would be nice to have the man you loved home at night once in a while.

You were pulled out of your reverie by a swift tug of your blankets, feeling them slip right off of you, yelping at the chill of the apartment.  Your eyes found Frank’s his filled with mirth.

“Gotta say kid, can’t say I was expectin’ this getup…”

You crossed your arms over your chest, clad only in a pair of panties and one of Frank’s black t-shirts.  You huffed, trying to pull the blankets back up around your body.

“Yeah well…I wasn’t going anywhere because of the snow…and I certainly wasn’t expecting some JERK TO PULL THE BLANKETS OFF OF ME!”

All he did was smirk at you, making his way to the couch.  He lifted your legs, depositing his body underneath them, laying your legs in his lap.  You nearly cooed as you felt his rough hands digging into the muscles in your calves, kneading away tension you didn’t even realize you had.  You finally wiggled out of his grasp to shift, scooting yourself around so you leaned against him, your head on his shoulder.  He let out a grunt, getting the hint, shifting himself so he leaned up against the arm of the couch, his legs swung up on the cushions, you nestled in between them.  You leaned back against his chest.

“At least you’re good as furniture.”

“Thanks, kid. Really warms my heart.”

You let out a full on laugh that time, twisting your head to look up at him.  Although his face was usually littered with scrapes and dried blood, and the always seemingly present black eyes, he was truly beautiful.  His eyes were full of so much depth, eyes that had seen so much, more wise than human eyes ever needed to be.  One of your favorite features of his was his crooked nose. That poor thing had been broken more times than anyone could count, and yet it looked so utterly right on him.  Then there was his mouth, lips that would utter the most terrifying threats to the villains of Hell’s Kitchen, and yet smile the sweetest, warmest smiles in your direction, and whisper things, promises for later that would make you shiver in delight.

“You know there’s going to be almost two feet of snow?  There might be even more, who knows…”

Frank looked down at you, humming in acknowledgement.  It was his little way of letting you know that you could continue.

“They actually cancelled school for tomorrow!  Can you believe it?  They never cancel public school in the city!”

You could see a smile creeping onto his face, but knowing Frank it would never be an enormous grin. You weren’t sure if he had it in him anymore.  You didn’t blame him.  That was perfectly fine though.  You knew that you made him happy and that was all that really mattered.  Would this last forever?  You had no idea where your life with Frank Castle was going to lead, but you did know that you’d stick around for as long as he’d let you.  

The both of you sat like that for a while, relishing in each other’s warmth and company, Max slumbering happily (again) at the foot of the couch.  It was some time later when the question came up, the one you’d been dreading to ask, the one that would break the little paradise that had been the last hour and a half with Frank.

“Are you going out tonight?”

It felt as if you were waiting an eternity to hear his answer.  It was a question that you had asked before, one that was usually met with the same answer.  You were waiting for his customary reply when instead you felt his hands running up and down your arms.  Frank took a sidelong glance out the window, wincing as he listened to the wind howl and smack against the window, rattling the frame.  Pressing a soft kiss to your temple he murmured against your skin.

“Not goin’ anywhere tonight, sweetheart.  Too much damn snow.  Let those fuckers freeze out there and I’ll take ‘em out tomorrow night.”

He pulled you closer to his body, enabling you to rest your head in the crook of his neck as he shifted lower on the couch, getting in a more effective cuddling position.

“And besides…”

You could feel him nipping at your earlobe, his scruff scraping against your neck, burning deliciously.

“…how could I leave when you’re all spread out like that?”

You rolled your eyes, peppering him with kisses, snuggling close, and enjoying his company, watching the snow coat the city in a thick blanket of white.

**These moments were few and far between with Frank, but they were more than you could have ever asked for.**


End file.
